by AE Jones
“Good.”
I stood up and walked over to her desk. Jason had left the pretzels there. “Jason brought you some chocolate.” I turned around and held out the bag. My mouth fell open when I got a good look at Sabrina. “Are you blushing?”
“No!”
“Holy crap, yes you are! What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing.”
I sat down next to her on the couch. “Do you like him?”
“Don’t…don’t be ridiculous.”
“Sabrina. You are a Succubus. Seducing men is part of your nature. Why are you stammering like a twelve-year-old with her first crush?”
She sighed. “He’s different.”
“How so?”
“Most men pretty much have one thing on their minds when they’re around me.”
“Hel-loooo? You are a walking condom commercial.”
She scrunched up her nose. “I know, but believe it or not, it gets old. Sure, the first century or so, you’re flattered by all the attention. But I want a male who actually listens to what I have to say instead of just acting like he cares so he can nail me.”
“And you think Jason is this guy?”
“He hasn’t tried to lay a finger on me. He listens to me and brings me little things, like chocolate.”
I whooshed out a breath. “I’ll be damned.”
“Enough about me. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’ve been spending time with Griffin. Is the spark still there?”
“I’m here to help Trina. I’m not thinking about anything else.”
“Kyle. Listen to me. I know it hurt when you lost Joe. But he’s not dead. He’s moving on with his life, and you need to do the same.”
I nodded. She didn’t need to know I had just now been stalking him.
“I’m not saying you have to fall in love with Griffin. But if there’s something between you two, explore it. It’s all right if he’s your rebound guy. Besides, I bet he’s great in bed.”
I didn’t argue with her. Even with my compulsion to watch over Dalton, I had to face the fact that I was attracted to Griffin. I couldn’t deny it anymore, especially when I realized how incredibly relieved I was to learn Sabrina had never slept with him.
Chapter 13
Jason and I parked right in front of the body shop and walked into the office. Once again, the front area was empty, the smell of burnt coffee tainting the air.
With a weird sense of been-there-done-that, I called out, “Hello?”
This time, instead of Jim coming around the partition, Bruce stepped in. “Morning, you two.”
“Good morning,” Jason replied.
“Sorry about no one being here to greet you. Monica is on vacation. She always deserts me in February to go somewhere warm for a couple of weeks.”
I gave a thumbs-up. “Smart woman.”
“Yeah.” Bruce rubbed his hands together. “So let me get a look at your truck.”
Jason reached into his pocket for his keys. “Do you want me to drive around back?”
“No, it’s okay. I like to examine it in daylight the first time. Give me a sec.” Bruce walked away and came back with coat in hand, shoving his arms in as we stepped outside.
Bruce circled the truck slowly, examining the dents and rust spots. After a minute he looked up at us. “The good news is it’s not a lost cause. There are spots which need some work, but once those are fixed, I think it would just be a paint job. I’ll know more once I can get it up on the lift. Can I see the engine?”
“Sure.” Jason popped the hood.
Bruce leaned over the side and poked around for a couple of minutes before straightening. “You did a good job on this.”
“Thanks.” If I wasn’t mistaken, Jason’s chest puffed out a little.
“Did you help him with it?” Bruce asked me.
I smiled. “No, I met him afterward.”
“Why don’t we go back into the shop and write up a preliminary estimate of what I think needs to be done? Then once I get the truck up on a lift, I can give you the full-blown estimate.”
We followed him inside, and Bruce led us around the counter to a desk that made mine look uber-tidy and clean. He plopped down and gestured to two guest seats, then finally located an estimate form.
“Do either of you want a cup of coffee?”
“Only if you let me brew a new pot,” I answered.
Bruce laughed. “Help yourself. The supplies are in the drawer by the coffee pot, and the sink is around the wall to the left.”
I sauntered out to the reception area and the coffee pot, took out the old filter and coffee grounds, and chucked them into the garbage. Taking the carafe with me, I walked past the partition to the left and found a small kitchenette area, where I dumped the old coffee and rinsed out the carafe before filling it with fresh water. I stopped for a second when I heard a voice on the other side of the partition. It sounded like Jim Smith.
“Stop calling me at work! … I know, but I don’t have it.”
He slammed down the phone, and I hurried back over to the coffee maker so I wouldn’t be caught eavesdropping and put the pot on to brew.
Then I ambled back to Bruce and Jason. “Coffee will be ready in a couple of minutes.”
Bruce looked up from the estimate form. “Great. Let me finish this. I’ll have to wait until Monica gets back to give you a written estimate.”
I smiled. “Do you have the program on your computer?”
“Yeah.”
“Scooch over and let me see.”
He let me sit down and then pointed to the icon. I clicked it. The program was relatively easy. The various services and parts were in a picklist with corresponding prices. I got to work entering the information already listed on his paper estimate. After a couple of minutes I stopped typing.
“What else do you need on here?”
He leaned over my shoulder and reviewed the screen. “Looks good. Thanks for taking care of it for me.”
“No problem.” It was time to go fishing. “You don’t have anyone who can help you while Monica is gone?”
He shook his head. “I’ve tried before, but it takes too much time to explain the parts and services to temps. By the time they’re trained, Monica is back in the office complaining that they screwed up the invoicing. You’re the type of temp I could use.”
I dangled the bait in front of him. “In fact, I’m not working right now.”
He bit. “Do you want a temp job for the next couple weeks? Just a few hours a day to help with the invoicing? I can’t pay too much.”
I smiled. “I’m sure we can work something out…like maybe reduced rates on Jason’s truck?”
He grinned and actually rubbed his hands together. “That’s definitely doable. Are you interested?”
I almost blurted yes, until I realized I was supposed to be dating Jason. “We don’t have anything planned, right, hon?”
Jason frowned for a second and then acquiesced. “Nope.”
I turned to Bruce. “Sure. When do you want me to start?”
“Is tomorrow too soon? You could come in for a couple hours in the afternoon if it works for you. How about one o’clock?”
“Definitely works for me.”
We drove away from the building, and I waited until we were around the corner before jerking the earpiece out. I didn’t want to hear any more of Misha’s sputtering. He was not happy I was going to be working at the body shop. I relayed Jim Smith’s phone conversation while Jason sat at a stoplight. “It sounds like Jim has gotten himself into a bit of trouble.”
I leaned closer to Jason and spoke into his ear. “Did you get that, Mish?”
Jason cringed. “Oh, he got it, all right.”
“Great. Now you have a choice to make. Either you can take me to a car rental place and let me get my own transportation. Or you can drive me around Cleveland running errands this afternoon.”
“Car rental place it is
.”
“Smart boy.”
* * *
It was getting dark by the time I pulled up to my apartment in my mid-size sedan. Luckily, I found a spot close to my building, but it took a few extra seconds to parallel park, since I was used to a smaller car.
After succeeding on the second try, I got out and lifted the grocery bags out of the passenger seat. The Arctic wind hit me head-on, and I hurried across the street toward my building. I had almost made it to the door when my right foot landed on an ice patch, shooting my whole leg forward while my left foot stayed where it was. Crap! I stuck my hands out, grocery bags dangling from my arms as I tried to right myself. After a couple of seconds I realized, thankfully, I would not be doing the splits in the street. I slowly hauled my legs together, looking like a penguin giving birth, and gingerly navigated the last few steps to the building.
I huffed and dropped the bags in the hall, grabbed the salt pail by the door, and liberally sprinkled the sidewalk before trudging up the stairs to my apartment. I dumped the bags on the table and spent a few minutes putting away my supplies. Shaking my head, I sat down with a defeated thud. How could I have gone to the grocery store and not bought anything to make for dinner?
Cereal was normally my go-to meal. That and my take-out menus. Living in Little Italy definitely had its perks. As I rummaged around for my bowl and cereal from the pantry, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the door to find Vinnie standing there with an awkward pre-teen smile and a brown paper bag.
“Welcome home, Kyle.”
“Hi, Vinnie. What did your Dad send me tonight?”
“Chicken Alfredo.”
I almost moaned out loud. “Your father is a food god.” His food-godness was because he was part empathic demon and knew precisely what someone wanted to eat before they thought of it themselves. At some point, I had become his pet project, and he made sure I didn’t starve.
Vinnie chuckled. “I’ll let him know. He said to tell you welcome back, too.”
“Thank you for this. Put it on my tab.” I handed Vinnie a tip, shut the door, and then scurried to my kitchen for a plate and utensils. Tony’s food was legendary, and I had sorely missed it.
I swirled the noodles around my fork and took a huge bite, which practically seared the skin off the roof of my mouth. The sauce was like lava, but luscious, just what I needed on a cold winter’s day. But then Tony knew that better than I did.
After I rinsed my dishes, I sagged into the couch. I reached for my phone, but then stopped. I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. Every day, several times a day, I searched for Dalton’s name and simultaneously hoped/dreaded I would see something new. Enough. Right?
I bit my lip. I couldn’t go cold turkey yet. But what if, instead of actively looking, I let the news, when there was any, come to me? Hadn’t I spent enough time with cyber-geek Misha to know how to make that happen? I picked up the phone and set up an Internet alert. Any time the name Joe Dalton was mentioned, I would receive an email notice. I sighed. Much better. Now I didn’t need to obsess about him. He was fine and I would be fine.
Maybe Sabrina was right. It was time to move on.
Chapter 14
Damn. Two in the morning and my phone was ringing. I yanked it off the nightstand and glared at the screen. Misha.
“What?”
“You up for a run?”
I nodded and then realized he couldn’t see me through the phone. “Yeah,” I croaked, “where are you?”
“The All Night Diner in Coventry.” Coventry was an eclectic little artsy neighborhood, and not that far from Little Italy.
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
I got out of bed and dressed in jeans and a sweater. I took a quick look in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. Short hair did have its advantages. Shoving my feet into boots and grabbing my coat and keys, I headed for my car.
Supernatural mishaps occurred more often than not at night. Maybe the supes thought the dark made it easier to get away with acting like idiots. I had no idea if it was the real reason, but it always seemed like I was missing out on precious sleep. After parking in the lot across from the diner, I walked through the front door, even though the closed sign was hanging in the window. Since the All Night was never closed, we needed to clean up whatever the mess was pronto or we would have an entire neighborhood of nosey people pounding on the door for breakfast.
I stood for a moment, taking in the scene. Fifties schmaltz bombarded my senses, blaring from a real jukebox. The long counter with its row of red vinyl stools stood empty. The smell of grease clung to the air, even though the grill was unmanned at the moment. The good news was there were no dead bodies or body parts anywhere to be found. Which was a plus.
Misha sat in the corner next to two teenagers slumped in the booth. Based on Misha’s tense shoulders and the way he was glowering at them, I didn’t blame them for looking like they wanted to slide under the table. Before I could walk over to him, the kitchen door swung open, and Jean Luc sauntered through.
He grinned slowly before speaking. “It’s good to have you back, ma petite.”
“What have we got?”
He inclined his head toward the booth. “Two teenage shifters got into a fight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please tell me they didn’t change in front of a bunch of norms.”
“They didn’t change fully, just decided to show their claws.”
“Who saw them?”
“The cook and waitress.”
I sighed in relief. “Good thing it isn’t the weekend or the place would have been packed with college students from Case and John Carroll. Where is everybody else?”
“Jason is in the back room with the humans, trying to calm them down. He has been telling them the teens were using special effects makeup and props to freak them out.”
I was impressed with his ingenuity. “Are they buying it?”
“We’ll know in a few minutes. If not, we may need your talents.”
I hesitated, and he studied me closely. I was afraid he was going to ask me what was wrong, but I was saved by the bell ringing above the front door, announcing the arrival of an irritated man who looked vaguely familiar.
Jean Luc walked over to him, and it took me a moment to realize he was the shifter I had seen with Griffin the first night at his house.
Jean Luc spoke first. “Stephen, I apologize for waking you.”
Grimacing, Stephen glanced toward the booth where both teenagers had slumped even further in their seats. “What happened?”
“They got into a fight here in the diner.”
Stephen’s eyes tightened on Jean Luc. “There must be more to it, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Your son called me. They showed their claws in public.”
“Christ. That’s all we need.” He turned to me. “Did you take care of it?”
His demanding tone annoyed me, so I glared back at him. “I haven’t taken care of anything yet.”
“But you are going to erase the witnesses’ memories, right?”
“I might not need to. Right now, they think the fight was staged with special effects props.”
He shook his head. “Not good enough. I don’t want there to be any chance Daniel might be associated with this.”
“Maybe Daniel should have thought about that before he went Freddy Kruger in public?”
Stephen glared at me for a moment, but I just glared right back.
“Trust me, his lack of judgment will be dealt with.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Would you please make sure there are no potential ramifications from this? The last thing Griffin and the pack need right now is another issue.”
I wasn’t sure if he was being decent or just using the Griffin card to convince me to step up. But I would do what was best, regardless. “Excuse me.”
I pushed the swinging door open and walked through the kitchen to the back storage room. Jason sat drinking coffee with a skinny gu
y in a striped, blue, short-sleeved shirt and a woman in a pink diner outfit. Her name tag said Peggy Sue, which would have made me laugh if she hadn’t practically jumped out of her skin when I walked in.
I held up my hands. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was just looking for my friend here.”
She giggled nervously. “I apologize. This whole prank business has me stirred up a bit.”
“Understandable. Boys can be idiots,” I added. Then I winked at her. “Hell, men can be idiots.”
She smirked and glanced over at the cook, who shrugged lazily. “Don’t I know it,” she muttered.
I pointed toward Jason. “Do you mind if I borrow him for a minute?”
Jason got up and walked over to me, opening the door and letting me go first into the kitchen. “Glad you could make it, Kyle. I could use your help.”
“Not sure why. It looks like you have everything under control back there.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Peg seems cool with the explanation, but Carl isn’t buying it.”
“Peg’s the one who is all worked up. Carl is about ready to fall asleep. How do you know he doesn’t believe you?”
He gave me a perplexed look before answering. “I just know. I interrogated people while I was in Special Forces, and I know when someone is lying. In this case, Carl is acting like he’s buying it, but he doesn’t believe a word of it.”
I hesitated. Did I want to do this? Because once I did, it would be harder to say no the next time. And there would always be a next time.
“Kyle, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I braced myself. “Can you bring Peg to the kitchen and then watch Carl for me until I’m ready for him?”
Jason ducked back into the room. Within seconds, Peg came through the door.
I smiled at her. “It’s been a long night, huh?”
She clasped her hands, twisting her wedding band nervously around her finger. “What’s going on out front?”
“The boys’ parents have been called to come pick them up.”
She glanced around distractedly. Time for me to go to work. I concentrated on an image of two boys bursting into the diner with wolf masks and fake claws on their hands, while Peg stood behind the counter and gasped.
